No Dominion The Walker Papers - By CE Murphy Page 0,44

yourself, Master Muldoon. Watch for the things that have changed, and hold those in your memory now. They will be important, if you can hold them.”

“Changed, what the hell are you talkin’ about, Horns? I know how my life went. It ain’t gonna change.”

He shook his big heavy head, an’ I got the idea he was giving me as much as he could without hanging himself. It didn’t seem near enough, and I thought maybe Joanne felt like this a lot, like she was working with only half of what she needed to know. I started to ask another question, but Cernunnos held up his hand, stopping me. “Watch. Remember. And act only when you are certain of your outcome, and not before, or this battle for your wife is sure to be lost.”

I muttered, “I already lost it once,” as Cernunnos dropped me into a college football game an’ my whole life washed over me.

I always told the dolls it was the smell of wet leather and grass stains that kept me coming back to the field. Never failed to get a dimple or a laugh, like they saw fixating on scents as an intriguing sensibility. Wasn’t, though. I just liked the smells, the way they filled up my chest an’ got the heart pumping. They were a signal the fight was on, an’ a football field was about as much fight as I was ever looking for. Getting a sacked, knocking down a long pass, jumping high for the ball. My Pop taught me to play football, but it was Ma, a ballet teacher, who made me practice pushing all the way through my toes when I jumped. Got me a few extra inches of height every time, and I caught a lotta balls—and deflected a lotta others—that the other teams didn’t think I should, that way.

‘course, it was a long way down to the ground when somebody tackled me at the height of a jump. Dirt an’ grass an’ bodies flew. The wet ball squirted outta my grip an’ went bouncing end over end across the field. About eight other guys jumped on it, an’ a couple more jumped on me for good measure. A whistle blew an’ everybody piled off, lined up, an’ started all over again.

I knew this game. It was the last college game I was gonna play for four years, an’ in about two minutes I was gonna miss my last chance at a touchdown. A little fella on the other team was gonna foul me and the refs weren’t gonna catch it. I was gonna eat dirt, lose the ball, and in the end, lose the game. I’d replayed it in my mind prob’ly ten thousand times over the years, the way ya do.

‘f I took two extra steps sideways, though, there would be nothin’ between me an’ the goal posts ‘cept clear air and a few thousand screams cheerin’ me on, and I’d go into the Army a football hero instead of feeling like the pariah who lost the big game. Grinning like a fool, I snatched the ball when it came my way, put on a burst of power, dodged to my left…

…an’ let the little guy foul me, an’ fell, an’ lost the game. Plenty’a complaining in the locker room later, mostly from the other guys, my pals who’d seen the foul even if the ref hadn’t. “Thought you were gonna make it there, though, Muldoon,” one of ‘em said to me. “You looked like you knew he was coming.”

“Almost saw him outta the corner of my eye,” I allowed. “Just couldn’t get my feet going fast enough. Shoulda been you with the ball, Smit. You got lightning feet.”

He did a shuffle that made everybody laugh, an’ a couple guys pounded me on the back on the way out. They knew, even if the refs didn’t, an’ they didn’t know about the double-play I was living that coulda let me save the game if I’d chosen to. I watched a bunch of ‘em go, waving an agreement to meet for beers an’ burgers later on, then ran a towel over my head an’ chased after the coach, callin’, “Coach. Coach, wait up, I gotta talk to you.”

Saunders was another little guy like the one who’d fouled me, ‘cept not a jackass like that fella. He’d been a quarterback in his day, and didn’t mind admitting he was a better coach than he’d been player. He slowed down without looking